I don’t know if I can convince you to drink this by using words. I’m not even sure I should tell you what’s in it.
There’s probably nothing Irish about pesto, but there’s probably nothing Irish about green food coloring in Budweiser either, so I’ll take all judgments for this recipe with a grain of salt.
For your last minute St. Patrick’s Day needs, here is a quick two-step idea to get you to your ideal level of inebriation, and then pass it.
Our kitchen looks like a meth lab. With Sarah and I both conducting our St. Patrick’s Day experiments, and with our coordination and judgment decreasing exponentially as time passes, our apartment is now messier than the plot of an M. Night Shyamalan movie.
Unsurprisingly, Sarah and I were having a disagreement. Because she has a way of convincing me that I should be a reasonably functioning adult, I agreed to be productive and write her some blog posts for St. Patrick’s Day. But she didn’t quite consent to my method. “We don’t need to get drunk at every…